


take one last look at this sacred heart

by bartallen



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, I'm Sorry, Past Character Death, bruce is dumb, it's jason we all know it's jason, post justice league 2017, the author uses the phrase 'his eyebrows showed some concern', this is basically just the justice league asking about the batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bartallen/pseuds/bartallen
Summary: “I meant to ask,” Barry’s voice sounds conversational, like he’s talking about the weather or an upcoming baseball game. “What’s with the suit?”[The one where the Justice League asks about Robin.]





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> hi i really really wanted someone to mention the batboys in the movie and when no one did, well, i had to do something. i tried to keep everything movie canon but idk about the years and the ages that well, so sorry about that. i hope no one is that bothered about it ! hope u enjoy this.
> 
> title from sigrid's everybody knows

The first time someone mentions the suit, they’ve all been working together for two months. Bruce is sitting in the Cave, typing away on the computer while Alfred is in the next room, giving Arthur stitches on his shoulder. Somewhere around him, Barry is running around, apparently still trying to find secret passages in the shelves or  walls. 

 

“I meant to ask,” Barry’s voice sounds conversational, like he’s talking about the weather or an upcoming baseball game. “What’s with the suit?”

 

He’s standing in front of the glass case now, pointing at it so carefree, while turning his head to Bruce.

 

Bruce, however, freezes in his spot and Barry must have realized his mistake, because his movement falters and he steps from one foot to the other, suddenly unsure.

 

_Take a breath_ , Bruce thinks. _1, 2, 3, 4, 5._ He frantically thinks back to his one and only therapy session years ago, the woman’s soothing voice still so clear in his mind. 

He closes his eyes and counts again. Only then does he opens his eyes again and resumes typing. 

 

He doesn’t answer Barry’s question that night and Barry never asks again.

 

 

♡

 

 

There’s a reason why none of his teammates have been in his home before. The Cave, sure, his garden he’ll tolerate as well but he always draws the line at the inside of  his own four walls. “I like my privacy,” he says, and if he comes across as rude, well, he isn’t known to be the most social guy around anyway. For some reason, the rules  don’t seem to apply to Clark Kent.

 

One day he just shows up on his doorstep, a pot of something cooked in his arms, and cheeky smile on his face. 

 

Bruce lets him in immediately. 

 

“I know Alfred is in England,” Clark greets him and Bruce nods, but doesn’t question how exactly he knows that.

 

“Lois made dinner,” the other man explains and holds out the pot. “Careful, it’s hot.”

 

Bruce awkwardly accepts the pot and puts it on the sideboard in the hall. “I didn’t need food,” he says instead of thank you, because that’s just who he is. “I’m a  billionaire. I could have ordered food.” 

 

Clark doesn’t seem to mind his harshness and smiles anyway, for some reason he regards that as a reasonable response.

 

He takes a few more steps inside and scans the place, probably looking for some personality in the sterile room. His eyes get caught on something on the wall leading to  the living room and he leans closer to get a better look, careful not to make too sudden movements. Bruce knows immediately what caught his attention. He himself  makes sure to avoid that certain spot on the wall most days. Other days he can’t look away for what feels like hours.

 

It’s an old picture, inside a simple silver frame that was hung there four years ago. Bruce remembers the day the picture was taken like it was yesterday, it was only a  few months before _it_ happened. Dick and Jason had been sitting cross-legged in the garden, across from each other on the bench, their arms on their knees and heads  rested on closed fists. _It’s been an hour_ , Bruce can hear his younger self saying. _Someone has to lose eventually._ Dick and Jason both hadn’t responded, too focused on  their staring contest, but Alfred, loyal Alfred, had laughed and gone inside to fetch the camera. _You’ll want to remember this_ , he had said. He had meant well, of course,  but little had he known that Bruce would remember every second with them anyway. Even those he’d gladly forget.

 

Clark is standing right in front of the picture now, a fond and curious smile on his lips, and Bruce wants to run away or kick him out or go to bed. He does neither. He  just stands there and waits for Clark to ask. 

 

Clark doesn’t though, instead he gives the picture one last glance, and then turns around to face Bruce again. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

 

Bruce has heard that too many times by now. _I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Wayne. So, so sorry. Such a nice boy. So young._

 

Except Bruce knew how those people really felt about Jason. _Street trash_ , they had called him. Bruce despised every single one of them. _Picked him up right from the_ _gutter._

 

He can feel his heart beat speeding up again, and Clark must notice because his eyebrows show some concern.

 

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5._

 

“Okay,” he eventually answers and he knows it sounds cold and distant, so he adds “Thank you”.

 

Clark is quiet for a moment, and eventually he says “Enjoy the food, don’t worry about the pot”. He leaves right after that. 

 

Bruce keeps staring at the picture.

 

 

♡

 

 

Sometimes Bruce catches Diana looking at the glass case and the battered suit inside it. Sometimes she catches him staring at it, too. Neither of them mention it, but  Bruce knows that Diana is curious and wants to know. By now, everyone in the team has noticed the case (then again, it’s hard not to, but that’s kinda the point), and yet  no one has said anything. Bruce knows it’s because Barry has told them not to. 

 

The only one brave enough to ask is, of course, Diana.

 

“Why do you keep it here?”

 

Bruce doesn’t turn around to face her, but he’s sure she caught the stiffness of his shoulders.

  
  
“To remind myself,” Diana doesn’t answer, so he continues after a minute of silence. “To remind myself what I fight for, and…”

 

He doesn’t finish that sentence, and he doesn’t know how he would if he had to.

 

“Who was he?”

 

Diana is looking at the suit again, has probably guessed the frame of the person who wore it once upon a time. She’s frowning. 

 

_He was a child, not even 18 yet_ , he thinks. _You did this to him._

 

“Someone I loved,” It doesn’t feel enough. “Someone I lost.”

 

Diana doesn’t press.

 

 

♡

 

 

Victor Stone is extraordinary.

 

That’s the first thing that comes to Bruce’s mind when he learns about him, and it’s still what he thinks of him now, after months of working with him. With all the knowledge and wisdom that Victor carries, it’s hard to remember that he’s basically still a kid. _He’s only two years older than Jason would be today_ , he catches himself thinking. _He’s younger than Dick is._

 

So, Victor Stone is extraordinary. He’s smart, he’s quickthinking and he’s one of the most courageous men he’s ever met. But he’s not invincible. 

 

Silas Stone is looming over his son, patching up some part of his shoulder while Victor is trying to hide the wincing on his face. Alfred applies some sort of ointment to his eyebrow. Silas looks more angry than worried and keeps mumbling under his breath. 

 

“It’s alright, dad,” Victor starts, but he gets cut off by Silas immediately.

  
  
“Do _not_ say it’s alright, Victor,” he sounds angry. “Because it’s far from alright.”

 

In that moment, Bruce feels some kind of admiration for him. The man has always put his son first, Bruce knows because he’s seen the files and because whenever  Victor does speak of his father, it’s always with fondness and caring.

 

Right now, Victor doesn’t say anything, and Silas turns to Bruce instead. 

 

“How can you let people do this?”

 

Bruce’s throat gets tight and Alfred immediately locks eyes with him, knowing him better than anyone else.

 

“I don’t let anyone do anything.”  


 

Silas slowly shakes his head.

 

“Maybe when you have children, you’ll understand.”  


 

His heart burns, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with yearning for Dick, and Jason and the knowledge that his sons are home with him.

 

“I do,” he says quietly.

 

Silas turns back to him, clearly not having expected him to actually answer.

 

“What?”

 

“I do have children,” Bruce says and ignores the look Alfred has on his face.

 

Silas looks stunned, and mostly confused, but Victor doesn’t. 

 

Victor knows, because Victor knows everything the world thinks it knows about Bruce Wayne.

 

 

 

♡

 

 

 

Sometimes he calls Dick’s phone at night, and hangs up before the call gets answered. In the morning, there’s always a missed call from Dick. 

 

_Soon_ , Bruce thinks. _Soon I will hear his voice again._

 

 


	2. part ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ends like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took forever wow.,,,, any editing mistakes will be fixed,, im posting this from my phone rn but i didnt want to keep you guys waiting any longer ♡ hope u like thisss ♡

 

Once a week, he goes to the graveyard and sits by his grave. He never brings any flowers, because he knows Dick takes care of that. Even with his eldest being out of town, there are always fresh flowers in front of the grave stone.

 

This time, it’s no different. The lilac orchids that are sitting on the dirt look as if they have been put there just a few minutes ago, but Bruce knows that Dick is long gone.

 

For a moment it feels like he’s mourning both of his sons.

 

  
♡

 

  
Arthur is not in Gotham very often, but when he is, he’s there to make Bruce’s life difficult. Diana says that he’s making it up, and so does Alfred, but Bruce knows the other man is trying to push his buttons. In the span of a few months they’ve come to some kind of understanding between each other; they do their job and they respect each other. And Bruce has a whole lot of respect for Arthur Curry: he’s taken up the title of the king in Atlantis; which was probably a lot harder than it sounds. Being responsible for not only your own life, but a whole kingdom? That’s something Bruce can admire. He sure knows about responsibility.

 

But respecting someone doesn’t mean having to put up with everything they do.

 

That’s why he’s moved on to ignoring Aquaman for now.

 

They’re in the cave, again, to discuss some things for the Justice League and it’s just Clark, Arthur and Bruce. Clark and Arthur are moving back and forth and Bruce is just busying himself looking through some files and clicking meaningless buttons on the computer to look occupied.

 

It seems that he’s not the only one in a mood, though.

 

“Are you going to involve yourself at some point or are you just here for show?”

 

Arthur is raising one of his eyebrows and looks pissed. Clark starts massaging his temples while he takes a seat, clearly done with his part.

 

“This is my place,” Bruce reminds him. “I can do whatever I want to.”

 

“Apparently you can be an asshole, too.”

 

He doesn’t answer that but focuses on finding some important data on some freshly released prisoners to look through. Maybe he can actually find something to do instead of just pretending to, so he and Arthur don’t have to fight -

 

“Who died and put you in charge of this team anyway?”

 

\- but yeah, touchy subject.

 

He immediately stiffens, and Clark must notice the jump his heart made because he can hear him getting up from where he was seated and moving a few steps forward as if to interrupt the fight that could erupt any moment.

 

He doesn’t see the face his friend makes but apparently Arthur does, because he speaks again.

 

“What?”

 

He sounds annoyed and Bruce suddenly feels so tired. He’s tired of feeling helpless and he’s tired of being afraid of feeling emotions.

 

Abruptly he turns around to face Arthur.

 

“We’re done here,” he says coldly.

“Leave.”

 

“You’re kicking me out? What about the contracts?”

 

Bruce is gathering the paperwork they’ve done so far and puts them in a folder, which he then slams on the desk and turns around again.“You know your way out.”

 

Arthur and Clark stand there for another few seconds but then Clark must have ushered the other man out, because the silence returns to the cave just as the blood stops rushing in his ears.

 

_1, 2, 3-_

 

He stops counting. It’s never done him any favours so far.

 

 

♡

 

 

  
Alfred takes one look at him and sadly shakes his head, face disappointed.

 

Bruce feels like he’s eight again; lonely and full of sadness.

 

  
♡

 

 

Bruce likes working at Wayne Enterprises. He has his own office where no one bothers him and he gets a lot of work done in little time.

 

  
It’s just past noon when his doorbell rings. With Alfred being out, it’s him who answers the door to reveal Arthur standing on his doorway, looking out of place, but somehow still fitting right in.

 

They’re staring at each other for a second, before Arthur points behind him to somewhere behind the gate he’s probably climbed over.

 

“Uh, there’s someone yelling your name for a while now,” he starts but Bruce waves him off.

 

“I know,” he says and steps aside. “Come in.”

  
“I want to apologise,” Arthur says after he does so. “For yesterday. I have been told that I might have crossed a line.”

 

“It’s alright,” Bruce answers. “You couldn’t have known.”

  
_You need to be more forgiving, my boy._ Alfred had said. _You can’t shut everyone out._

 

Bruce can, actually. But maybe, he realised, he shouldn’t. For the sake of other people, at least.

 

Arthur nods, clearly satisfied with how that apology went.

 

“Was he your son?” He’s looking at the picture that Clark also had looked at, eyes darting between Jason and Dick respectively. Bruce comes forward to stand next to him.

  
“Yes.”

  
He wonders how they might look like right now: two grown men standing next to each other, staring at a picture on the wall.

 

Arthur looks more serious than ever when he puts his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend.”

 

This time Bruce doesn’t answer. Not for the first time he wishes he knew how to properly answer that statement.

 

Arthur leaves without another word and Bruce lets him.

  
♡

  
Doing business at Wayne Enterprises is something Bruce is good at, after all it’s been everything he had looked forward to since he was just a boy. But being good at something does not mean liking it. So when Bruce calls it a day at the office, he’s mostly focused on getting in the car and leaving the place.

 

He’s walking down the stairs in a fast pace, his face so serious that he’s not being approached by anyone in the office. He feels moodier than his usual broody self, mind still clouded with his talk with Arthur and Silas and -

 

It’s too much, and he just wants to be home by himself. Leaving the huge building is a huge relief: the fresh air fills his lungs and he can think clearly again.

 

“Mr. Wayne!” A young voice calls out to him, but Bruce is actively ignoring everything in his surroundings as he waits for his car to be brought down from the garage. “Mr. Wayne, please! I just want to talk to you for a second.”

 

The security guard is giving him a sympathetic smile, but Bruce doesn’t feel up to smile back.

 

“Mr. Wayne, it’s really important, I just need a few minutes, really.”

 

The car pulls up and Bruce gets in the driver’s seat. He can’t wait to be finally home.

 

  
♡

 

  
The cave is silent. So silent that he notices the footsteps immediately. Expecting Diana or Barry, he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting at the computer. Someone is taking their time, though, and when the walking finally stops, he hears a sharp intake of breath and then -

 

“What the fuck is this?”

 

It’s not so much the words that make him flinch, but the voice.

 

When he turns around, Dick is staring at him with wide eyes, standing in front of the glass case that is holding the broken suit.

 

Freeing himself from the shock he fell into, he gets up.

 

“Dick,” he starts but Dick holds up one of his hands, silencing him. The other hand points at the glass case behind him. Bruce can see that it’s shaking slightly.

 

“I hope that this isn’t what I think it is,” he says, voice low. “Bruce, for the love of god…”

 

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to. Dick was always very clear in in his intentions. That was one of the things Bruce admired most about him. His honesty, his carefree and loveable nature. His warm heart.  
His son hasn’t changed much in the time Bruce hasn’t seen him: his thick, black hair is slightly shorter than he used to wear it, but he still has the same aura; as if the sun followed him everywhere he went, even in a place as dark as the cave. The way he’s holding himself now shows that he’s stressed, and tense.

 

“I needed this,” Bruce says and as soon as he says it, he realises how much this is not an argument. Especially not one that is going to hold against someone like Dick Grayson.

 

“Do you even realise how wrong this is?” His voice is shaking now. “Please tell me it’s a spare suit and not the one he actually died in.”

 

When Bruce fails to answer, Dick throws up his hands.

 

“Bruce, what the fuck?”

 

Bruce takes tentative steps towards his son, hands outstretched.

 

“You don’t know how hard this was for me, still is. I could barely-“

 

Dick, who had his back turned towards him to look at the case again, turns around sharply, taking angry steps towards Bruce.

  
“How hard this was for you?” He shakes his head, an aghast look on his face. “He was my brother, too. Quit pretending like you’re the only one who lost someone, like you’re the only one grieving.”

 

They’re standing right in front of each other right now, only a few inches between keeping them apart. Bruce can see that Dick is turning red in the face, probably from how angry he’s getting. His blue eyes are glassy, and his eyebrows are furrowed. He’s clearly upset, and probably has been for a while. Bruce realises that this is probably the first time they’re talking about this, and that Dick is most likely getting everything out of him that has been bottled up for years.

 

“This is what went wrong,” Dick says. He’s no longer yelling and his voice sounds raspy. “You didn’t talk to anyone. You never talked to me. We were in this together and I -”

 

His voice wavers and Dick falters, as if he’s reliving old memories that he had tried to forget.

  
“I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

 

Dick is quiet again and his heavy breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the cave.

 

Bruce doesn’t know what to say: in his mind he always wondered what his first reunion with Dick would be like. He wrote dozens of scenarios in his head with all kinds of outcomes, and yet his mind is blank now. What does one say to his estranged son?

 

“Dick, I-“

 

Dick silences him with a simple shake of his head. “No, I didn’t come here to fight.”

 

Bruce nods, because that is the last thing he wants to do right now. This is one of the situations where he wishes Alfred was with him. Alfred would know what to say or do. _But maybe_ , Bruce thinks, _maybe I need to do this alone._

 

“You’re right,” he says. “You needed me and I wasn’t there for you.”

 

Dick is looking at him as if seeing him for the first time, but the frown has left his face, so Bruce takes a small step towards him.

 

“I’m sorry for that, Dick, there’s no apology for that.”

 

Dick is still silent, so Bruce takes that as a sign to continue. Talking about feelings with Dick had always been much easier than with his other son.

  
“After he died, I…” He pauses, to give his voice time to recover. “I shut everyone out, regardless of who they were. You shouldn’t have been included in them. I made a mistake. I made lots of them, actually. I’m starting to think I won’t ever stop making them. You don’t have to forgive me, but I want you in my life again. You’re my son, and you’ll always be my son, no matter what.”

 

His hand reached out, unknowingly and he hesitantly drops it again when it hangs in the air for a few seconds. Dick is still looking at him like that, and they stand there for a full minute before Dick breaks the silence.

 

“He has a name, you know,” he says quietly. “You’re allowed to say it.”

 

Bruce freezes; he hadn’t even realised that he had avoided saying it until now. In his mind, sure, but out loud? How long had it been since he said his own son’s name?

 

He can’t come up with an answer.

 

“I missed you,” Dick says when Bruce fails to answer. “I missed you a lot.”

 

The older man feels a rush of affection for him right then; and he has the sudden urge to wrap his arms around the other man ( _boy_ , his mind supplies, _he’s still just a boy_ ).

 

“I missed you, too,” he admits instead. “Every single day.”

 

And then because he feels like it’s only fair that he shares all of his feelings to him:

 

“I miss him, too.” A pause, and then, “Jason. It’s like I lost you both that day. I know it’s all my fault, but-”

 

Dick interrupts him with a sharp raise of his hand. “Stop that. It’s not your fault.”

 

Bruce opens his mouth to reply, but Dick doesn’t let him. “It’s not.”

 

And that’s the end of that conversation because the next thing he knows is the feeling of familiar arms around his upper body and the warmth he thought lost. They stand there for what feels like an eternity and Bruce thinks that maybe Dick needed this embrace as much as he did. Despite not having gone anywhere in forever, Bruce feels like he’s finally home for the first time in years.

 

  
♡

 

Talking to Dick is surprisingly easy: despite the gap their relationship had, it’s easy to fall back into old patterns, meaning Dick does all the talking and Bruce offers some ahs, and ohs and occasionally asks some questions here and there. Age hadn’t changed his son at all, for he still is an extraordinary animated talker; his whole body moving when telling a story and gesturing wildly when asking about Bruce’s life.

 

Bruce absorbs it all. He can’t believe he gets to experience it all over again.

 

He doesn’t even get upset about Dick’s mockery of the Justice League (“Be honest with me, was it you who named the team?”).

 

They’re still sitting at the bat computer when the door to the cave opens.

 

Bruce realises that he might have forgotten the team was supposed to have a meeting.

 

“Here you are,” Barry starts but halts when he sees Bruce is not alone. “Who are you?”

 

Dick gets up from where he’s sitting and looks at the team, eyes wide and full of excitement. “Oh,” he says, voice amused. “hi.”

  
Bruce sighs, but gets up as well. By now they have approached the bat computer and are all staring at Dick. Diana catches his eye and she gives him a small smile. Even Clark looks proud, obviously having recognised Dick from the picture he once saw.

 

“This is Dick Grayson,” Bruce introduces when no one says anything. “My son.”

  
Barry’s eyes go comically wide and he looks between Bruce and Dick respectively, as if to see a sudden resemblance. Bruce gestures to the team, then.

 

“This is the-“

 

“‚Justice League‘, obviously.” Dick is grinning now.

 

Barry goes from shocked to offended. “Why are you saying it like that?”

 

“Like what?” Dick says innocently.

 

“Like it’s in quotes or something.”

 

“Why would I do that? I’ve only heard good things about the ‚Justice League‘.”

 

“You did it again!” Barry points out angrily.

 

Dick puts up both of his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Enough,” Bruce cuts in. “Both of you.”

 

“You’re Nightwing,” Victor says then. “I’ve seen videos of you in Bludhaven.”

 

Dick lights up at that. “That’s me, indeed.”

 

Arthur, who had only been listening so far, looks interested now. “Nightwing?”

 

“Kinda like Batman, but not as shady.” Bruce rolls his eyes at that. “I’m mostly in Bludhaven, though.”

 

“You haven’t worked with Bruce before?” Barry looks curious, clearly over whatever nonsense he had been upset about before. 

 

Dick smiles softly. “I used to be Robin,” he explains. “Batman’s cooler sidekick. I wanted to be my own hero, though, so I gave Robin to my brother.”

 

Silence. 

 

Suddenly, the presence of the glass case that’s right beside them is heavy. Dick still has a smile on his face, though a sad one now.

 

“Oh,” Barry says. “Brother.” He says it like he finally understands.

 

Bruce has never shared a lot with his team: only the necessary things that were important for missions and the general team building. But there are things they deserve to know, he thinks. After everything they deserve it.

 

“His name was Jason,” he explains with a quiet but steady voice, feeling Dick’s gaze on him as he speaks. “The Joker killed him five years ago.”

 

His team is quiet, but he knows they’re all hanging on every word he says. “He would be 22 now.”

 

Yesterday just saying his name would have ruined him, but now he feels a heavy weight falling off his chest. 

 

“Thank you for telling us,” Clark says and when he looks up he can see his whole team looking at him: their faces are full of sympathy and understanding, but he cannot see a trace of pity.

 

Dick shoots him a shy smile.

 

  
♡

 

  
Business at Wayne Enterprises is easy for Bruce Wayne. He’s a good actor and a charming man; and he’s been signing contracts with important partners since he turned 18. Being at the office is just a part time job, though. For years he considered his night time activities more important than any other job. Keeping the citizens of Gotham safe was a priority, after all. But the office was some kind of home, as well. He chose the chair to his desk when he was 16; some of the pictures on the wall have hung there for decades now. Before him, his father occupied this very room. One day, his own heir might sit in it.

 

So yeah, being at Wayne Enterprises is always easy. But it’s not his favourite time of the day. Leaving the place is something he’s looking forward to, mostly. He usually rushes to his car to get home as soon as possible.

 

But today, he feels at peace.

 

For the first time in years he walks home instead of taking the car. It’s not a long walk, he supposes. He takes some short cuts that do not lead through the city and gets thinking.

 

The fresh air does wonders to his head, and he feels lighter than ever.

 

As he’s making his way towards his own neighbourhood, he thinks about how the next time he’ll be meeting with the League, there will be no thick air among them and how the next time he’ll call Dick, his son will actually answer. The pain is still there, and Bruce knows it always will be, because Jason is a part of him that he’ll always carry with him. But he’s learning to deal with it, and he knows he’s not alone in this, now. He never was. Bruce can feel himself smiling.

 

Just as he’s walking toward his own home, he hears a familiar voice calling out.

 

“Mr. Wayne!”

 

He turns around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr @hawkgirls!! ♡

**Author's Note:**

> you can request stuff or just say hi [here](http://hawkgirls.tumblr.com)


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